


There's No Going Back

by LoveLikeAnAntivan



Category: Sharja, Sharon den Adel - Fandom, Tarja Turunen - Fandom
Genre: F/F, Sharja - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 01:38:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17519735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveLikeAnAntivan/pseuds/LoveLikeAnAntivan
Summary: A short scene from Sharon's home where she thinks about her first meeting with Tarja and the memories that remained, connecting the two of them in a passionate and secret bond.





	There's No Going Back

“Atchoo!”   
Sharon shook her head and blinked.   
“Atchoo! Godver…” she sneezed again, but this time she managed to cover her mouth with her elbow. No wonder, the duster in her hand was full of dust chunks and an occasional spider web. Okay, it's been a while since she’d cleaned her house up thoroughly for the last time. But where was she supposed to get the time? The Hydra tour took pretty much all of her year away, so instead of sweeping floors she was sweeping the stage with her hair, tightened up in a corset and sweating over waterproof make-up.   
Cleaning was actually her second favorite outlet, right after singing. Probably because usually it ended up like a very off-key combination of both - she did manage to hold the keys headbanging, but try staying on tune while on all fours, trying to reach the furthest corner of your living room. Fortunately, the background music was usually loud enough to cover up for all her occasional slips.

 _There’s no sense, the fire burns,_  
when wisdom falls, it changes all  
the wheel embodies all that keeps on turning

She felt goosebumps jump all over her body as she automatically sang along with her lines, and a chill ran down her spine as Tarja’s voice sounded on full boost from her stereo in the next second. As the song progressed, she danced around the living room, polishing up the glass table, straightening the pillows on the couch, and when the song ended, she didn’t even know how, but her cleaning was finally over, too. She sat down on her leather couch, all sweaty and pleasantly tired, which was mostly to blame on the grand finale with her favorite song. She turned the stereo off with a remote control and put her MacBook on her lap. Her chest was rising up in a fast rate as she opened Youtube and clicked on the official HD version of Paradise.  _One more time, but this time I wanna see you do it._  Tarja’s voice sounded in her head. And there were the goosebumps again. In a fullscreen mode she stared at herself rocking the flames with Tarja, the ice queen, the fragile snowstorm she was, who when given the chance could make even the flames of Sharon’s dragons freeze with just a snap of her fingers. 

  
Sharon still remembered the awkwardness she felt when mailing Tarja’s agent with a proposal of a feature song. She sent the lyrics and music suggestion and also mentioned the option of actually filming a video together. She personally hated filming more than anything, but she felt that this could be something spectacular, if only Tarja said yes. But the weeks passed by with no answer, Sharon was almost ashamed of the eagerness with which she checked her mailbox on a daily basis, but still nothing. When she was finally about to give up all hopes and had to concentrate on other coops, anyway, her phone rang one day, with an unknown, very exotic looking number with a dial code +54. She picked up after long hesitation, but her heart skipped a beat when she heard the accented:  
“Oh, hello, am I speaking with Sharon den Adel?”   
Oh god, Sharon thought, she couldn’t have pronounced my surname more wrong.   
“Tarja! Oh my god, it’s so nice of you to call, you could’ve just replied to my mail, that would’ve been totally fine,” she blabbered, heart racing.   
“No no no, first of all I’m terribly sorry for the delay, my agent has been a mess lately, she had a baby and a wedding and, well, all that jazz, but anyways, now I’m here and I want to know one thing: is your offer still valid?”   
“Absolutely! We already started putting the album together this week but there’s still plenty of time for you to take part. I’d be so so happy to have you here, really.”  
“That’s just perfect. I’ll be more than happy to join you, plus I’m in love with the video idea. Your sketch looks so… I don’t know, so pristine, so naturey, but wild and powerful and I don’t know, just very you, you know what I mean? I’d be but a background for your art.”   
Sharon blushed heavily. Only now she noticed how much her knees were shaking and had to sit down. They chatted for a bit and Tarja promised to make a space in her schedule for at least a month long stay in the Netherlands for all the necessary rehearsals and recordings. And Sharon couldn’t wait.

 _You and us, or I and them,_  
there comes a time to take a stand  
the wheel is watching all that keeps on burning

And then there was the big day of meeting. Sharon met Tarja before, but usually it was very brief and with a bunch of guys around, also before, during or after a performance, so they were soaked in sweat and nervousness and there wasn’t much time nor mood to be friendly. But Sharon always felt a wave of unexplainable affection towards the younger woman, the shy and reserved, but so warm and beautiful icon of everything she’d always worked for in her life.   
The plane from Buenos Aires had a 40 minute delay which Sharon spent sipping on a Starbucks latte that gave her a bad stomach ache and thinking of just running away and disappearing forever. But once the long, black hair glittered in the Departures hall of Schiphol, there was no way back.   
Sharon rushed to Tarja, giving her a friendly hug, not noticing Tarja’s surprised stiffnes underneath her arms. The following three-times-kiss on a cheek was even more confusing to her, and Sharon just laughed.   
“I’m so sorry for drowning you in my dutchness, can’t help it.”   
Tarja shook her head with a smile and they headed for the nearest Taxi. Sharon noticed Tarja’s hands shaking as she sat in the car, but she hid her restlessness perfectly behind blabbering about her flight and how excited she was to be here.   
“This is actually my first time in the Netherlands while off duty, sort of at least. That’s probably why I have no clue whom to kiss and how many times,” Tarja laughed and Sharon smirked back.

But that was it. That was the moment that the thought flew through Sharon’s head.   
_You should kiss me. For million times and more._  
But she didn’t say a word.

The video was over. Sharon woke from her memories and decided to browse some of Tarja’s live performances. She always found her singing disarming, breathtaking, chilling to the point of fainting, and with every old and new song she listened to, Tarja only proved her right. As she was watching the sharply cut face, the graceful movement of her noble but petite body, the little wrinkles around her lips, she remembered the way her hair smelled of wintery mint and tropic coconut, the softness of her thin fingers running across her face, the hotness of her burning, pale skin against hers, the unbelievable force with which Tarja took her, despite all her northern closedness that disappeared behind the locked door of Sharon’s bedroom…  
Sharon’s hand slipped in her shorts as she closed her eyes and drowned herself wholly in her memories. Her breathing got even faster, silent moans escaped her half-open mouth as she bit her lip, frowning slightly, driving herself to the point of no return. She threw her head back and scratched the couch with her nails. Her whole body shook with an intense wave of ice cold pleasure.

 _There’s no going back_  
what we used to be  
there’s no room for us  
no place for me

 _Never enough, never enough,_  
no, never enough, never enough  
I gave it all   
you still want more

Sharon sighed deeply, her breath shaking slightly. She reached out for her phone weakly and typed a short message.

 

 

Sharon smiled to herself.  _I love you too, secretly, my snowflake._


End file.
